


Three Things

by IPaige



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Cute, F/M, Fluffy, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 14:35:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10493007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IPaige/pseuds/IPaige
Summary: Within 24 hours of meeting Clarke, Bellamy knew exactly three things about her. It should have been simple, it should have been casual. But Bellamy wanted more, he wanted to know more about her. And so the list of things he knew about Clarke very slowly grows.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something that got stuck in my head, it was only meant to be something very little. But I somehow ended up here, with a one-shot quite a bit longer then intended. Anyway, let me know what you think!
> 
> I was thinking I might make a companion piece from Clarke's POV, let me know if it would be worth the time :)

**Three Things**

In all the months that they’d been involved in a casual relationship, Bellamy had only learned three things about Clarke.

 

  1. She danced like she was the only person in the room.



 

…

 

Bellamy smirked when he watched her down another shot; her and her friend had entered the bar over an hour ago. They’d declared a standing table, one near the wooden flooring that claimed to be a dance floor, theirs for the night.

 

It wasn’t a bar where people would normally dance. There was only her and her friend moving across the floor at the moment, but neither seemed to mind the eyes on them. Her brunette friend had wandered off to restroom, while she’d continued to sway to the music. Completely out of tune, her blonde hair swaying behind her as she tossed her head from side to side.

 

Her hips flicked from side to side, in quick succession. Her hands up in the air, twisting above her head before she slid them down her body to land on her hips.

 

Bellamy shot up from his seat, sliding out from the booth while Murphy hollered at him, hooting and yelling in encouragement.

 

Sliding up to the bar, Bellamy signalled for another drink before walking across the room and setting his drink down on the table next to the blonde.

 

“Nice moves.”

 

She offered him a slight smile, before spinning and twisting, shutting her eyes and swaying to the music that continued to play.

 

“I’m Bellamy.” He waited patiently for her response, expecting her to provide him with a name. “You’re name is?”

 

She stopped then, turning to face him. She chewed on her bottom lip, biting at it while she contemplated answering him.

 

“I’ll tell you. If-“ She propped herself on top of the table, elbows leaning against the tabletop, each of them facing the other.

 

“If-“ Bellamy probed gently, attempting to encourage her.

 

“If you dance with me.”

 

Bellamy’s head popped up to face the lackluster dance floor, “there’s no one else dancing.”

 

She leant forward her head almost close enough to touch his.

 

“That’s why it’s fun, Bellamy.”

 

She spun away from the table, stopping in the middle of the dance floor, her hips swaying once again. Bellamy turned to face his friends, most of them were watching with thinly veiled interested, Miller had a tinge of smile at the corner of his lips. While Murphy was standing next to the booth, out rightly making obscene gestures with his hips while Bellamy watched.

 

She danced with her eyes closed.

 

It was only when he’d joined her on the dance floor, wrapping his arms gently around her waist the she opened her eyes.

 

“Clarke.” She ran her hands down along his arm, “my name is Clarke.” She completed the sentence with a gentle tug at his arm while simultaneously pushing back against his groin.

 

It was easy to get carried away after that.

 

Bellamy wasn’t fond of dancing, unless of course it was with a pretty girl and carried the promise of more. While Clarke’s dancing certainly offered that, it was also free and careless, Clarke moved like no one else was there.

 

Wrapped around her, with his eyes closed. It almost felt like no one was.

 

…

 

  1. Clarke was very good in bed. _Very good._ Bellamy stressed the words ‘very good,’ purely to provide an authentic and dependable source on the topic.



 

…

 

Clarke had sex like she danced. Free, wild and uninhabited.

 

They were both hot and sweaty; Clarke lay with her head against his chest, “again?”

 

“Again?” Bellamy was aware there was a smirk on his face, he huffed out a deep laugh before responding. “Hell yer.”

 

Bellamy spun his body into Clarke’s until he was holding himself above her body.

 

Her hair was wild and spread across his pillows; her once sleek and flowing hair was curling gently around her face. Bellamy had to admit she truly was gorgeous, especially when her vivid blue eyes sparkling with mischief and she bit down on her lip, drawing attention to the little mark above her lip.

 

“Bel-la-my,” she whined, drawing out his name, while she tugged on his hair.

 

Then she was rolling them, until she was seated on his hips, rocking back and forth, swaying like she did on the dance floor.

 

“You took too long.”

 

She angled herself just so until they were finally joined, “I was building-.” Bellamy groaned when she twisted just so. “-Anticipation, Clarke.”

 

“I’m more into instant gratification. I see something I want.” Clarke stopped her movements until Bellamy was looking her dead in the eye. “and then… I take it.”

 

Her hips rocked, fast and hard, bucking against him. Her eyes closed while she took her own pleasure. Her hands taking what she wanted, while he shook with her. Free, wild and uninhabited.

 

...

 

And finally;

 

  1. She couldn’t cook. At all. Literally, nothing.



 

 

…

 

Bellamy woke to the fire alarm blaring; he immediately jumped from the bed and ran towards the kitchen.

 

Only to find Clarke swatting at the smoke with a tea towel while she hopped from foot to foot. Quickly noticing that there was no immediate threat and that there was indeed no fire, only smoke. Bellamy leaned against the wall to watch the show.

 

She’d stolen his t-shirt from the night before. She was so little it drowned her figure; reaching down to touch her knees while the shoulders were so wide, they slipped from their place and left her lightly freckled shoulders on display.

 

“Oh shhh. Shhhh!” Bellamy covered his month to stop the laugh that threatened to spill out. Clarke was quickly waving the tea towel through the smoke, glaring up at the smoke detector on the roof, as if it had personally offended her.

 

Finally deciding it was time to help, Bellamy moved quickly, slipping the tea towel from her hands and reaching up to swing the tea towel like Clarke was before. This time having a lot more success then Clarke did.

 

“What are you doing?”  
  
“I was attempting to make breakfast.” She was biting her lip, gently.

 

“You were making me breakfast?” There was a tinge of a smile on his face.

 

“You wish, I was making breakfast for myself, but don’t stress if there was food left over you could have had some.”  
  
“I feel like I should point out that it’s my food, and –“ Bellamy looked over towards the stove which held a blackened pan, and charcoal covered- _something_ \- inside it.

 

“Whatever you’re making, if there is anything left over. Please throw it out.”

 

Clarke frowned then, her lips pulling down at the edges. It made Bellamy feel guilty for causing that reaction. “Look I’m really sorry,” she was still frowning, her blue eyes now looking down towards the ground, “look.” Bellamy grabbed the pan and began scrapping at the charcoal mess, “it’s okay. It doesn’t matter, honest. I’ll make us something.”

 

“Cool, I’m gonna shower. You cook.”

 

She slipped off to his room, smiling coyly with a large spring in her step. Bellamy was 100% sure he just got played.

 

Huh… and he didn’t hate it.

 

…

 

And that was everything Bellamy knew about Clarke.

 

Bellamy had a few ‘real’ relationships sure. But he’d also had his fair share of one-night stands, and casual relationships.

 

So it wasn’t that he wasn’t used to sleeping with someone and knowing nothing about them. It was just that this time he wanted to know more about her. But Clarke wasn’t exactly forthcoming with the information.

 

…

 

Bellamy gripped her head tight his hands, her blonde hair curling around his fingers.

 

Her fingers ghosted over his muscular arms, they were both slick with perspiration.

 

Bellamy moved his hands down to hold her by her ribs, he nipped his way down her torso, biting her gently through her shirt, watching as she began to wiggle and squirm. By the time he reached her navel, her shirt had ridden up, leaving her golden skin open for his teeth to nip at.

 

His tongue darted out to trace alongside her navel, before he propped himself up against her stomach.

 

“What do you do?”

 

“huh?” Clarke was breathless and confused.

 

“What do you do? You know, job wise?”

 

Clarke’s head fell backwards against his pillow, laughing. “Really Bellamy. Right now?”

 

“Well, I mean you know what I do.”

 

Bellamy hoped his skin was tan enough that the slight blush he felt rising on his cheeks was not visible. When he still didn’t move, Clarke groaned and relented, “I’ll tell you if you’re good.” Her voice was husky and rough.

 

In an outrageous movement, Clarke flipped them over until Bellamy was flat on his back. Clarke’s legs wrapped tight around his ribs, her petite body pushing his body into the mattress beneath them.

 

Clarke groaned before leaning down to suckle on his neck, Bellamy moaned when her tongue came out to play.

 

“You’re kind of distracting, you know that?”

 

“That’s the point Bellamy,” Clarke punctuated her words with a sharp bite to his left nipple, Bellamy released a deep groan. “Now shut up.”

 

Then she was lifting her arms upwards and removing her top. Leaning down against him until there was no space between them. Bellamy sucked in a sharp breath, she felt like satin on silk.

 

Could that count as something he knew about Clarke?

 

Probably not.

 

But he didn’t hate having first hand knowledge about it either.

 

As his lips reached her neck, he searched out that special sensitive spot found just over her pulse point. Making her moan and push against him, encouraging him to continue.

 

Then they were all hands and fast movements, until his hips fell into position beneath hers. His thrusts were rough and strong, while his bare arm snaked around behind her back. Bellamy’s eyes rolled back in his head, pressing his face into Clarke’s neck while his own body continued to pump against hers.

Her hips meeting his; thrust for thrust.

 

Until she arched against him, her thighs tightening at his waist, pressing down frantically against him. “Oh, god… _please,_ ” she cried hoarsely.

Whatever she wanted, Bellamy would gladly give her.

 

Because he knew three things about Clarke and proof of number 2 was sitting wet and satisfied in his lap. His own ecstasy clear on his face for her to see, Bellamy vaguely wandered if that’s why she always looked so smug, because she knew just how good she was.

 

…

 

There was shrill ring coming from somewhere in the room, baring and disrupting the blissful peace that had overtaken them, after falling together.

 

“Shit,” Clarke’s heat disappeared from beside him, her body slipping from the bed down to the ground. “Hey Reyes, yer I’m… ummm- I’m at the gallery.”

 

Huh, gallery?

 

Bellamy turned in the bed to gain a better angle to see her; she was rubbing at her head and biting her lip, a deep flush moving up her bare chest. Suddenly she jumped up and Bellamy resisted the urge to jump when she did.

 

Picking up her jeans, Clarke attempted to quietly jump herself into her pants, while still holding the phone to her ear.

 

Before stopping dead, “you’re there? ... What I meant was, I will be at the gallery. I’m just getting coffee… Yep see you soon.” A gorgeous smile lifted the corner of her lips, “Love you too.”

 

Hanging up, Clarke stood dead still, seemingly in shock. Before bolting upright and running from the room.

 

Bellamy frowned at the snippet of conversation he managed to catch, his phone dinged a moment later indicating an incoming message.

 

Thanks for last night ;)

See you next time.

 

It wasn’t the first time Bellamy had woken only to find Clarke gone and a simple text on his phone, it wasn’t even the first time Bellamy had feigned sleep in order to watch Clarke’s hurried morning routine.

 

Bellamy normally found them entertaining, watching her attempt to be quiet for his sake but the phone call had rattled him. Who was she talking to? _Love you too…_

Just another thing that Bellamy didn’t know about Clarke.

 

…

 

“What’s wrong with you?” Octavia had clearly had enough of his mopey mood, despite the fact he was a naturally quiet guy, when Octavia was around he was at least talkative with her.

 

“His girlfriend is fucking someone else.”

 

“Shut up Murphy.” Bellamy rolled his eyes heavenward, already seeing this conversation going downhill.

 

“Girlfriend?!” Octavia stormed over towards Bellamy, snatching the drink from his hand, “you didn’t tell me you were seeing someone.”

 

Bellamy turned towards Miller, expecting some kind of moral support instead he shook his shoulders and looked away. “Really O? That’s what you took from what Murphy said.”

 

Octavia looked between the two of them, giving them both an odd look. Before finally settling with a puzzled look on her face, “well yer the fact you’re dating someone is a shock, the fact she’s a slut,” Octavia shrugged. “Not so shocking.”

 

“She’s not a slut.” Bellamy pushed himself away from the bench and made to stand and leave.

 

“Please, I lived with you during your early 20s when you were a highly sexually active asshole, I saw a great number of your ‘girlfriends,’ ” Octavia used her fingers to create quotation marks. “All of them were sluts.”

 

Bellamy rolled his eyes, “she’s not a slut.”

 

“She’s also not his girlfriend.”

 

_Thanks Miller,_ What a time to chime in.

 

Bellamy walked away from the kitchen, settling himself against the couch to pull out some work to correct.

 

The couch bounced underneath her weight, when she jumped into the seat next to him. “Tell me about this girl.” Her voice was oddly soft for Octavia.

 

“There’s nothing to tell, it’s just casual sex.” Bellamy leaned back into the couch, holding one of his junior’s History papers in front of his face.

 

_Fucking hell Steve, could you get any dumber? Jocks, euh._

 

Bellamy attempted to ignore the stare he felt burning into his side, Octavia wasn’t going to give up on this. “But you like her?” It was both a statement and a question, Octavia sounded very unsure about it herself.

 

“I like her well enough,” offering her an arrogant grin he continued. “She’s great in bed.” See item 2 on the very small list of things Bellamy knew about Clarke.

 

Octavia shoved her hand against his face, they both laughed at the joke before Octavia grabbed his arm and steadied him. “Seriously, Bell-“

 

“O, stop. It’s a casual relationship, I may have thought for like a second it could be more. But based on what I heard she’s clearly seeing someone else and in all seriousness I don’t know anything about her anyway.”

 

Bellamy leaned into the couch, and prayed that she took his words at face value.

 

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, Bell.”

 

Bellamy waited until she walked away to release the air he didn’t realize he was holding.

 

…

 

Bellamy liked to think of himself as a very stubborn man, when he put his mind to something he could do it, he could do anything when he thought about it.

 

So when he decided that the whole Clarke thing didn’t matter, that he didn’t care about it. Because it was just a causal thing, and it would pass like any other, it made it so much easier when he thought about the fact he only knew three things.

 

And it was fine, until he started to learn a few more things.

 

He’d stumbled into the living room, leaving Clarke in his room to get dressed. Any minute now Clarke would be dressed and then gone, they had a pretty standard schedule, flirting, sex and then goodbyes. It was like clockwork.

 

Bellamy frowned, that brought a wave of unease over him, a wave he didn’t enjoy.

 

Attempting to fill the silence, Bellamy flicked on Netflix. Clicking play on the first TV show on his list.

 

Clarke appeared from his room, blonde hair in place and clothes practically pristine.

 

“Brooklyn Nine Nine?”

 

“I like some comic relief in my life.” His tone was dry and dark.

 

“That’s cute, personally I like dark comedy shows. Anything that makes my parents look less shitty then they are.”

 

Bellamy turned slightly, “You got shitty parents?”

 

Clarke turned towards him, seeming to judge his sincerity, “Who doesn’t? Isn’t it like the course of nature or something like that, don’t all parents have to be shitty? There are just different levels of shitty-ness.”

 

Bellamy shrugged, turning back towards the screen, “I wouldn’t know. Barely had half of one. She was alright when she was there though.”

 

“Hmmm,” Clarke slouched against him on the couch. “You mind,” she indicated towards the TV.

 

“Nope.”

 

It was nice.

 

Her head falling against his shoulder, her blonde hair tickling his skin but the nicest part was the way she shook against him when she laughed.

 

Looked like Bellamy had learnt a few more things about Clarke.

 

  1. She had shitty parents.
  2. She had a pretty laugh.



 

…

 

That was the problem though, the more he learnt about Clarke the more he seemed to like. The list had filled out quite a bit, to the point where he could count at least 30 different items.

 

Like, 26. That she was extremely competitive, in all things.

 

Even in Xbox games, loss was not an option. She’d thrown the controller the only time she’d lost. Then demanded a rematch, it was an action that from anyone else would have had Bellamy lecturing them about childish behaviors.

 

But her brow was puckered and she was muttering under her breath about cheating and unfair advantages.

 

She was cute; in the same way angry kittens were, whose anger was only encouraged by the cooeing and attention.

 

“Rematch?”

 

Bellamy ran his hands through his hair, laughing at the eager sound in her voice, “sure.”

 

 

 

Or number 15. She liked to sing in the shower.

 

Bellamy woke to the sound of running water and soft singing, lurching himself upwards and out of bed, he stumbled into the bathroom that was found off his room.

 

Gently opening the door, steam flooded the doorway; eagerly Bellamy’s eyes sort out Clarke’s figure in the haze.

 

She was easily found in the steam, hot water streaming down her body in rivulets. Clarke twisted under the water, humming softly before she began another song.

 

It was soft and sweet, even without the naked figure in his shower, Bellamy was pretty sure he’d enjoy the sound anyway.

 

…

 

But that was it. But it was still 10 times more then what he knew about her after their first night.

 

And damn it, Bellamy still wanted more.

 

They were nice facts, and cute things to know. But he still didn’t know the big things.

 

Until item number 31. The first time Bellamy learnt something major.

 

  1. Her best friend’s name is Lincoln.



 

…

 

“BELLAMY!” Octavia’s voice echoed through the apartment, loud and obnoxious.

 

“Shit,-“ Bellamy groaned pulling away from Clarke, “fuck, that’s my sister.” Clarke appeared a lot more relaxed then he was about the situation. Simply pulling herself up to the head of the bed, pulling sheets gently around her while he scrambled around to find something to wear.

 

There was a small smirk on her face as she watched him suffer, “BELLAMY!”

 

“Yer, I’m coming O! Just- just wait out there!”

 

As he was about to leave he noticed Clarke’s subtle chuckling, she bit on her lips when she noticed his gaze.

“Something amusing?”

 

Clarke nodded, dropping the sheets and crawling to the end of the bed to pull at his shirt. His gaze dropped down stopping at her chest before looking towards her hands where she was tugging on his shirt, “your shirts inside out.”

 

Bellamy moved towards the door, removing his shirt as he did so.

 

“Hey O, what are you doing here?” Bellamy trudged towards the coffee marker, attempting to pour himself a cup without making too much eye contact.

 

“Well, my classes for tonight got cancelled and I don’t have work, so I thought we could hang out. I miss you.”

 

Bellamy shrugged, but was unable to maintain a high amount of enthusiasm when he remembered the naked blonde in his room.

 

“Yer sure O, I just gotta –“ he stopped when he noticed the smirk on her face, “you already know, don’t you?”

 

“That there’s a girl in your room? Nah, not at all.” Octavia grinned, tapping her fingers against the kitchen bench.

 

“How?”

 

“Shoes at the front door,” she gestured towards the entry, “and you’re a mess Bell.”

 

“Right, well I guess it doesn’t matter then.”

 

Heading towards his room, he opened the door to find Clarke dressed and ready to go. “You’re going?”

 

“Well, I figured since you’re sister’s here-“ she flushed slightly, gesturing towards the door, as if the explanation was obvious.

 

“Nah you can stay.”

 

Clarke gave him an odd look, but followed him anyway.

 

It was only when they were staring each other down, awkward silence overtaking the living room that he realized the mistake he made.

 

“You’re O, right?”

 

“Octavia, only friends call me O.”

 

Clarke snickered but didn’t seem offended by her blunt nature, before her face blanked and she stopped. “Wait, -“ She looked between Octavia and him, “Are you Octavia Blake?”

 

“Yes, you know for someone’s whose been sleeping with my brother for a couple months, you’d think you’d be sure of my name at least.” She paused, giving Bellamy a sour look before she continued. “Although I suppose you two don’t do much talking.”

 

Clarke still looked unaffected, instead her face burst into a bright smile. “You’d be surprised, I’m actually quite the talker.” Bellamy blushed at her subtle implication. “However, its Lincoln that never shuts up about you.”

 

O’s face brightened at Clarke’s words, before it fell again and a look of confusion replaced the expression. “How do you know Lincoln?”

 

“His my best friend, we worked at the gallery together.” Then they were both off chattering about ‘Lincoln,’ Bellamy was very confused and also very annoyed that Octavia had met Clarke and within 10 minutes already uncovered two major items to add to the list.

 

  1. Her best friend’s name is Lincoln, - (side note Lincoln is apparently seeing his little sister).
  2. She worked at a gallery.



 

…

 

Item number 47 was his favorite.

 

…

 

“Please Bell!,” Bellamy walked away refusing to response to worthless pleas anymore.

 

“Come on, Clarke will be there.” Rolling his eyes, he sat back against the couch swinging his body to angle away from Octavia.

 

“I don’t know why you think that is gonna convince me to go to your old man boyfriends art show.” Octavia glared at his description of Lincoln as 'old.'

  
  
“I know I can. Clarke will be there and you’re basically in love with her. Seems like a pretty good strategy to encourage you to go.”

 

Bellamy snorted, but didn’t answer.

 

“We’re only casual-“

“We’re only casual.”

 

Bellamy looked up towards Octavia, “Bell if you have to say it that often, you’re lying to someone and heres a hint. It’s yourself.”

 

…

 

Tugging at the bow tie Bellamy felt ridiculous, why was he even here?

 

Octavia was hanging off her _boyfriend’s_ arm, they’d separated basically as soon as they arrived and he’d seen Clarke for all of two minutes and she honestly didn’t seem too impressed with his presence here.

 

At least he’d learnt more about item number 32.

Clarke didn’t just work in the gallery she ran it, quite impressive considering she was only 24 years old. (Number 46, how had they gone so long without Bellamy knowing something as simple as her age?)

 

He was admiring one of Lincoln’s sculptures, it was a twisted and coiled metal carving, it had caught his eye and Bellamy had found himself lost in thought while he stood in front of the sculpture.

 

Bellamy felt her presence, before she even spoke.

 

“I like you.”

 

Trying not to choke on the breath he just took, Bellamy spoke hoping his breathlessness was not noticeable. “You do?” His attempt to come of as calm and collected was not quite convincing.

 

“I do.”

 

“Why? You don’t know anything about me?”

 

“I know enough.” Clarke sipped her champagne, “enough that I would like to know if this could be more?”

 

“More?”

 

“Yes. Maybe a date?”

 

“Yes, _please_.” Bellamy’s words rushed out as she’d barely finished her sentence, stressing his plea at the end.

 

Number 47. She liked him.

 

It was his favorite number. So far at least and Bellamy planned to extend his list for as long as possible.

 

As Clarke slipped her hand into his, Bellamy hoped that one day (hopefully soon) on the list of things he knew about Clarke, being in love with him would one day make it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
